Wednesday, April 6, 2016

"I Had A Murder-Boner For Most Of 1863," By Robert E. Lee

I recently heard that the state of Mississippi is going to be celebrating Confederate Heritage Month. And as the commander of the Army of Northern Virginia, I could not be happier. I wish people tried to understand the complexities of that war, and the different motivations of the men who fought so bravely. For me personally, it was never about slavery. And it wasn't even primarily a war for state's rights. I just wanted to see a whole lot of people get killed in awesome ways.

And brother, I did. Holy shit.

You see, the newly rifled guns and the shaped bullets gave armies a massive boost in killing range on the battlefield; soldiers could hit targets a quarter of a mile away. Meanwhile commanders were still using the same tactics out of ignorance or - in my case - just because they got their jollies seeing thousands of young men get blasted to pieces while trying to scramble up a hill like a swarm of fucking ants. Either way, it was a pretty intense experience for all of us.

Chancellorsville? Gettysburg? I had a near-constant erection through most of 1863.

I still vividly remember that night in Arlington after Virginia seceded. I still remember the difficult choice I faced. I could either lead Union forces to victory - and probably have the chance to burn almost every city in the South to cinders. But I could also take up the cause of the Confederacy, and use my tactical skills to take what should be a mercifully quick, decisive conflict and drag it out for years, wiping out a large portion of an entire generation of young Southern men. Hell, I thought, the survivors would come back all mangled and psychologically screwed up, and they'd find their homes devastated by war. The bitterness would probably translate into a hundred plus years of racial hatred. And if I played this son of a bitch right, they would never blame me. No, they'd turn me into Cracker Jesus; I'd be the hero of their hideous and doomed effort.

Plus, it can't be said enough that I knew I'd actually get to order lots and lots of people to take actions that would certainly get them killed. You grab a 20 year-old man, put him in uniform, give him a weapon and surround him with other 20 year-old men... and he will literally do anything you tell him to do, no matter how wicked or suicidal.

Hey you, go run up that hill while 200 people shoot at you.Sure thing, boss!Do it slowly, now.Whatever you say!And hold this big, ugly piece of fabric. Wave it around so they can see where to aim.Whee!If you get up there, could you just go ahead and club yourself in the face with your rifle until you lose consciousness?Hurrah for Dixie!
All of human history revolves around the fact that young men are generally violent idiots. And old men, who should save them from themselves, encourage their worst qualities instead, out of a perversion so sick and strange that it's almost never described honestly. Will Confederate Heritage Month be a time to reflect on this? Probably not. Ha. Suck it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a shuffleboard match against Satan.TRUMP TALES OF TERROR is about ugly creatures, murderous fantasies, and apocalyptic worlds – and they’re right in America. YOU CAN BUY IT HERE.

Lee was perhaps the single worst example of the Civil War commanders who didn't "get it". I think he had a glimmering; early on he was one of the first general officers to insist on entrenching his defensive positions (and got the nickname "King of Spades" which he supposedly hated...). But he never seemed to shake the notion that the Napoleonic mass attack would break his opponent, and his appreciation for the logistical and commercial difference between the two sides was minimal. He never had a von Rundstedt "Make peace, you fools!" moment.

So in that sense, Lee WAS the very worst commander that the South could have had. Good enough tactically to keep the North from bumrushing the Army of Northern Virginia, but not good enough to realize that wouldn't be enough to actually win...

On Choice and Life
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My next selection from my old posts is one I’m particularly proud of. I was
a bit of a late comer to feminism, though looking back I was certainly
brought ...

Sexual fantasies, desperation...

...cat-sitting... The Big Money is about these things. And also love, loneliness, the Spider Demon at the end of Doom, and working at a fashion magazine.It is true in the emotional, but not legally actionable sense.Buy it on Kindle......or Nook.